Outmatched
by Ice-Song
Summary: Shawn is challenged by someone who realizes that he isn't a psychic. Instead of calling him out, he challenges him to a game of wits with ever increasing stakes. Can everyone make it out alive? Gen.
1. Chapter 1

It wasn't that he was lazy or unmotivated. It really wasn't even that he wanted to piss off his dad although that was most likely a very large reason of why he started to act like the giant goofball he knew he was. He was better with his dad now and yet he still acted like he was five or sometimes to throw a wrench into the works he pretended he acted like he was six. If he was willing to do so, once in a blue moon his maturity could reach as high as seven or eight. But that was rare.

Truth was, Shawn loved being the carefree, silly person in the group. It got him attention, sometimes a job or two and if he was lucky sometimes he got a girl (and offers from guys came a long every once in awhile if he was in the right place but he tended to turn those down. Not that he had anything against them, he just wasn't sure he really swung that way.)

Yet, as he looked up from his place on the floor at his assailant he wondered why he just couldn't keep his damn mouth shut sometimes. It had basically become second nature to talk his way into and out of messes, but as he continued with his little 'Psychic' endeavors he found ever increasingly on the wrong side of a gun. While he knew that it was a good thing in some ways, it was mostly becoming something that he didn't bat an eye at. And that was possibly what scared him the most.

"You gonna talk? Tell me what I did?" The gunman jeered. "I seen you on the tee-vee," he said, pronouncing every word slowly and carefully. "You like to tell people what they did. Prove your smarts. Well, show me that smart pretty-boy."

Shawn was talking before he even caught up with himself. He was beginning to regret his incessant need to hear his own voice. Seriously, that might just get him killed some day. But, unfortunately stalling was the only thing he was good at. "First of all, smart isn't a verb, or maybe it is, but it's not meant to be used that way," he heard himself say. He saw the gunman sneer and quickly changed gears as he heard Gus whimper behind him. He had almost forgot his best friend was there while doing all this soul searching. Shawn scooted himself over, trying to sort of shield Gus while making it look like an 'episode' of 'divination' while he pieced the rest of it together in his mind. "Th…" he said while fluttering his eyelashes and making sure his body was in front of Gus'. "The dog…that was a diversion," he said in a breathy voice and then stared straight at the assailant. "In fact, the dead dog wasn't even your idea. That dog was never killed, or at least, not intentionally. Most likely it was hit by a car."

Outside Shawn saw the moving of shadows and released his breath he didn't realize he had sucked in. Now he really did need to keep the guy's attention. "The police found the dog outside of the hiding place in the car garage and assumed it was a guard dog. The 'owner' as it were, was long gone, probably shot by that very lovely weapon you have there," Shawn said while glancing at the weapon.

The gunman grinned and leveled it between Shawn's eyes. Shawn gulped and wondered where the hell Juliet and Lassie were. "So, it looked like the guy had taken the loot he was to guard and left. The dog creating the perfect cover story for him and so everyone assumed he killed his 'own' dog and ran. But it didn't add up," Shawn saw the doorknob turning and thought 'finally.' "First of all, there was blood on the walls but it wasn't the dog's and secondly the dog its self was malnourished and had been dead at least three hours after this all happened. At least according to the stopped watch under the car."

"What watch?" the gunman roared. "I cleaned that guy off, he din't have no watch!"

"No, but you just confessed," Shawn said and pointed behind the gunman. The man whirled around to see Juliet holding a tape recorder and Lassiter holding his gun inches from the man's head. "Gig's up," he growled.

* * *

"Gig's up? Seriously Lassie. I'm sure in your repertoire of awesome police sayings, 'gig's up' is not exactly up there. I mean, maybe a 'you feelin' lucky punk' or 'by the way, one more thing' if you wanna go old school. But 'gig's up?'" Shawn asked the next day while picking up his paycheck for another job well done. Pat on the back and all that.

"Shut. Up. Spencer," Lassiter said as neatly as he could. Shawn smirked as he could tell that the comment stung Lassie's ego. He really had thought 'gig's up' was a good closing line.

"Shawn, let's go," Gus said with a sigh while pulling at his friend's elbow. "You owe me cheesecake, remember?"

Shawn watched Lassiter visibly relax at the idea of him leaving. It was so much fun to needle him, if only for these moments. "Right, coming," Shawn said and allowed himself to be pulled out of the police office.

"Seriously, we are getting into too many problems lately," Gus said with a growl. "Getting held up with a gun is not my idea of fun Shawn. We are civilians. We're not even allowed to have guns. Plus you dad has a conniption every time he learns about these things."

Shawn rolled his eyes as they got into Gus' blueberry of a car. "Well maybe if someone didn't tell him."

"I don't tell him, Shawn," Gus shot back. "The newspapers tell him."

Shawn tilted his head to the side and thought about it. "Well… okay maybe that's true. But it's fun, and… adventurous. We're catching bad guys, Gus? And it's not always murderer's. We've caught thieves and frauders and…."

"Is frauders even a word?" Gus asked.

"Probably not," Shawn admitted. "Look, all I'm saying is, we make a pretty good team and yeah it's dangerous but we make quite a bit. And I do split the money with you."

"Money's not the issue and you know it Shawn. You were scared like a little girl this time. I know you were thinking 'why am I doing this?' and 'how did I get here' while he held us up," Gus told Shawn.

"Dude, get out of my head," Shawn squealed in a fake 'teen girl' voice. Gus smirked and looked rather proud of himself for knowing the truth. "Seriously, I know I was a little…scared maybe. …aaaand yes I was thinking 'wow this is a bad idea' and doing a flashback of my life but…well I like it. Besides my talking saved us."

"Your talking got us into the mess. Who the hell goes up to the guy and says 'the dog wasn't his' behind his back," Gus yelled.

"I didn't know he had a gun!" Shawn yelled back. "Seriously, did you?"

"….no," Gus admitted. "Just, Shawn we have to start being more careful. There are a lot more crazies out there now," he cautioned.

"Yeah, I know," Shawn replied and sighed. "You know dad doesn't…"

"You have to talk to your dad Shawn," Gust said before Shawn could weasel out of going to his dad's house. "He can't keep on finding out things from the newspaper and television."

Shawn shrugged. "All right, fair enough," he sighed and quickly began plotting his escape route. Gus locked the doors and glared at Shawn.

"As if I'd run while it was still moving," Shawn said with distain.

"I see the red light," Gus told him as he slowed down the car to a stop. He grinned while Shawn cursed under his breath.

* * *

A man went through several more newspaper clippings and began to highlight certain parts. "Another one," he muttered under his breath. "Every time he figures everything out, yet…no one else realizes how"

** "_I knew the dog didn't mean anything after they found out how malnourished it was. Guard dogs deserve better," the SBPD head psychic said._**

"Here we go," the man whispered as he taped the story up and looked around his room. This room was covered in newspaper clippings and stories. The stories on the left were of 'unsolved' and 'hopelessly tangled' cases. The stories on the right were about how the fabulous 'psychic' had solved these previously thought 'hopeless' cases. It was amazing, what he could do. Most people could train a lifetime and not achieve the level of awareness that this insanely cheerful man possessed. He could tell, he knew that Shawn Spencer was no psychic. Just a ridiculously aware person with among other abilities, the ability of instantaneous memorization, photographic memory, knowledge of facial features and the ability to spot a lie. Although this alone was something to be impressed with. Still, it made his blood boil with excitement. Perhaps this person was actually a worthy opponent. Someone to match his ability, possibly even surpass him.

Perhaps it was now time to challenge the 'psychic' and see how intelligent he really was. He was tired of simply watching. He wanted to pit himself against the most intelligent being he had ever had the pleasure of coming across. See how brilliant he really was, how brilliant he himself really was. That potential would never be reached until they locked horns.

He poured himself a glass of bourbon and watched the TV screen as Shawn enthusiastically gave the pretty anchor an interview. Shamelessly flirting with her while his eyes flicked around, taking everything in and filing it away for later use. Simply amazing. Truly, an impressive foe.

The man raised his glass to the TV in a mock toast. "May the best man win," he said with a flash of teeth and downed the remainder of his drink.

* * *

"That's the third time you've been held up this month!" Henry yelled.

Shawn threw a very dark glare at his best friend who shrugged and picked up the newspaper on the coffee table while he leaned back into the recliner. This might be a long lecture.

"Dad, seriously, I'm fine. Gus is fine. We're fine," Shawn emphasized.

"One day you will meet someone you can't outsmart," Henry said in a low voice. "You won't be able to out talk this person and you sure as hell won't charm your way out. What then?"

"Dad, you were the one who trained me and now you're saying I'll find someone who outdo me? Come on, it's like insulting yourself," Shawn said with a grin.

"Shawn, listen to me. You're good. Probably one of the best. But there are psychos out there, smart, very aware psychos. You might be smarter but they are more ruthless and have the advantage of being completely out of their minds," Henry growled.

"Have you met me?" Shawn asked.

"I'm not joking," Henry hissed. "Shawn, please. I didn't like this from the beginning and now it's only getting worse. Just consider…"

"I'm done," Shawn said quickly and stood up.

"Shawn…" Henry began.

"Dad, I finally found something I like. I didn't quit and I don't want to. And now you say 'give up' even though I'm doing everything you wanted me to," Shawn replied simply.

"No, you are going into dangerous situations as a civilian. Unarmed, against armed and dangerous people, Shawn. On a regular basis. Do you understand that?" Henry asked.

"You sound like Gus," Shawn sighed and sat back down.

Gus and Henry exchanged looks. Henry rubbed his eyes and sighed. "Compromise?" he asked in a voice that made both Shawn and Gus pay attention.

"Yes?" Shawn asked after an uncomfortable silence.

"Apply for a weapon license, get a gun, keep it with you, and let me take you to the shooting range once a week. You might need different skills now that things are getting more dangerous," Henry said.

Shawn groaned and leaned back into the chair. "Please," Henry asked. Shawn hated it when his dad got like this. It made him feel like he was ten again and what's worse it made him feel guilty. Like he was a bad son, by making his dad beg him to protect himself. Even in his head he came off as the jerk. He hated it when he rebelled against himself.

"Fine," Shawn muttered. "But you have to pay for it. I'm behind on rent because we were slow for a few months before this one."

"Fair enough," Henry said gruffly but the relief was evident in his face.

As Shawn was being driven back to his apartment Gus couldn't help but grin. "You totally just got your chain jerked by your dad."

"I knooow," Shawn whined and covered his face with his hands. "I live in eternal shame," he said dramatically and thrust himself against the seat of the car then grunted as the seatbelt restrained him from doing a full on 'Shawnism'.

"Nice," Gus said with a grin.

"Shut up," Shawn replied elegantly in an English accent. Then stuck his tongue out for good measure.

Gus shrugged and continued down the road.

* * *

Sooo...this WAS gonna be a one shot...and now it's not. My first psych fanfic, tell me if you like. Gen and most likely will stay gen. Probably going to end up a 'let's explore Shawn and his dad and their incredible amount of issues' fic. Because those are my favorite plotlines in the show. And Gus. This will have lots of Gus. Dule Hill is my hero X3

Hugs and cookies to my reviewers. I luff you 3


	2. Chapter 2

Shawn wandered into his tiny apartment and took off his coat with a flourish despite the fact that there was no one there to impress. Practice makes perfect and he was sure he would need his awesome 'coat throw over shoulder' pose soon.

He popped a veggies and a microwave burrito into the toaster oven and microwave respectively and flopped onto his couch. He lazily turned on the TV before working himself into the most comfortable/most worn part of his couch. He grinned as Lassiter's face popped up on the TV screen. "We have apprehended the suspect after discovering that the dog involved in the case had no connection…" Shawn pumped his fists in the air in a mock victory cheer. He grinned wickedly, storing Lassiter's quote away for later use. The man had pretty much just admitted that he was right all along. Oh the mileage he could get out of such a line…

Shawn heard the microwave beep and sighed, not really wanting to get his makeshift dinner and mentally battled himself over whether or not he was really that hungry. After his stomach growled in the middle of his debate with himself he decided that perhaps food was a good idea. And by then the veggies he had stuck into the toaster oven announced that they were finished. Shawn sighed and got up, apparently the cosmos wished for him to consume something that wasn't a pineapple based fruity drink.

After a rather uneventful evening Shawn got into bed and fell asleep within minutes. Roughly three hours later his cell phone began to ring. He heard _'She's my cheery pie…' _begin to play and half smiled half groaned as he realized it was Juliet calling him from her personal cell phone. He sleepily grabbed for his phone on the bed stand and almost fell over for his efforts. By the time Warrant had gotten to singing about _"swinging where we want…" _he had secured the phone into his hand and flipped it open. "Well, as much as I love a wakeup call from a lovely person such as yourself, I must point out the obvious and say 'Do you know what time it is?'" Shawn asked with good humor in his voice.

"Sorry Shawn," Juliet replied and the exhaustion was apperant in her voice.

Shawn sat up and looked concerned even though he knew Juliet couldn't see him. "What's up Jules, have you been to bed yet?"

"Not yet," she replied. "Actually, we have another case, a big one and…" her sentence was cut off by a large yawn.

"And?" Shawn asked as Juliet yawned into the phone.

"Well, something was stolen, a necklace worth about 4 million," Juliet explained.

Shawn whistled softly into the phone. "Wow, did the Lady of Sunset street get robbed?" he asked.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" Juliet asked, obviously impressed.

Shawn gave himself a mental pat on the back for his accurate shot in the dark. Still, what with her recently deceased husband of some seventy plus years being…well deceased and all and her recent penchant for leaving the doors unlocked in case he 'came home' it really was no wonder no one had tried until now to rob the poor widow blind. "Well," he said in a low purr. "I am psychic after all."

Shawn heard a shuffle on the other end and suddenly Lassiter's voice could be heard, muffled and annoyed. "If you two are done flirting there are some rather pressing issues to attend to." Shawn winced as Lassiter's voice came full force over his cell phone. "Spencer, as much as I hate to admit it, we need your help so get down here as soon as you can."

Shawn raised an eyebrow. "Wow Lassie, we just solved a case and we don't even have time to bask in the afterglow? I thought you were different from the other men," he said in a falsetto southern accent and held the phone a couple of inches from his ear as Lassiter's last nerve audibly snapped.

"SPENCER GET DOWN HERE NOW BEFORE I COME DOWN THERE MYSELF AND DRAG YOU HERE!" Lassiter yelled.

Shawn grinned and pulled himself out of bed. "Okay, but only because it's you," he teased and chuckled as Juliet came back on the phone.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Juliet sighed but he could almost hear the suppressed smile in her voice.

"Ah, he'll get over it," Shawn said breezily as he pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt he had only worn for half a day a week ago. "So anything I should know about this case before I come down?"

"You'll see when you get here," Juliet promised. "Hurry though, the Chief is getting as bad as Lassiter," she murmured quietly into her phone.

Shawn grabbed his keys and headed for the door. "Noted and definitely filed away. See you in a few."

* * *

"_Thiiiiiis is the niiiight it's a beauuutiful niiiight…"_ Gus groaned and buried his head deeper and deeper into his pillows. There was no way Shawn was actually outside his bedroom door singing… _"aaaaand they caaaaalll it bellllla nooteeee,"_

Gus growled feraly into his pillow as Shawn continued to sing outside of his apartment door.

"_Looooook at the skiiiiiies, they have staaaaars in their eeeeeyes…" _Shawn continued and Gus wrenched open the door to see Shawn sitting by his door, his eyes closed and in full 'annoy Gus' mode. Shawn looked up as he heard the door open and opened his mouth. _"On this looooovely beeeeeella noooootteeeee…" _he continued.

"Shawn," Gus said quietly, trying desperately hard not to yell at his friend to spare whatever neighbors he had left that weren't awake. "Why in the hell are you sitting outside my door at 3:30 in the morning singing songs from Lady and the Tramp?" Gus hissed angrily.

"Well, I thought 'this is the night' and then 'it's a beautiful night'" Shawn replied. "Then I realized that they were song lyrics and who doesn't want to be woken up to the song that plays when he rolls the meatball over to her. Come on, it's so cute…"

Gus made to shut the door but Shawn was on his feet in a flash and had stuck his foot in the door before Gus could even blink. "We have a new case," Shawn explained quickly. "Like, a new 'police asked specifically for me' case," Shawn said.

"Good night Shawn," Gus hissed and tried to shut the door but Shawn swatted him away from the entrance.

"Good day," Shawn corrected. "It's the morning now."

Gus glared at his best friend with every ounce of venom his poor beleaguered mind could muster at 3:30 in the morning. Shawn pouted back and even actually stuck out his lower lip. "Come on, pweese?" he asked cutely.

"Shawn, I'm going to count to three…" Gus said quietly.

"Oh come on, you know I can't do a case without you," Shawn said quickly. "And this one is gonna be big, I know it!"

"Shawn, I don't care. I'm not about to head down to the police station at 3:30 am because you got a call. I'm not the psychic and I need my beauty rest," Gus continued. "So good night."

Shawn went from 'sorta pout' to 'full on pout' mode in about two seconds. Gus glared at him as his eyes grew slightly misty and his body sorta shrank in a 'oh woe is me' position. Gus could have sword Shawn's eyes got bigger. "No," he told Shawn sternly as he would a five year old. "Absolutely not." Gus looked at his friend again and now Shawn let his lower lip ever so lightly tremble. God how did he do that? "I'm not going and that's final, Shawn," Gus hissed.

~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~

"Lassie-face!" Shawn said cheerfully as he strode into the police office at 4 am. Detective Lassiter suppressed a growl at the sickeningly cheerful greeting. They had just woken him up at 3 in the morning and he still comes in all sunshine and birthday cake. He would swear to his dying day that Shawn Spencer was placed on the earth to drive him, Carlton Lassiter, up the wall and into a mental institution.

"Hello Spencer," he replied through clenched teeth. "What, pray tell took you so long?"

"Well, I had to go pick up a friend," Shawn motioned to Gus who glared at Carlton through heavy lidded eyes. Carlton actually felt bad for the poor guy but he did his best to ignore it as he led them to the Chief's office.

Vick glanced up from some papers to see Shawn and a very upset Gus standing over her. "Mr. Spencer I believe I called you, not Mr. Guster."

"Aw, Chief you know I can't work without my magic head here to help me," Shawn said sweetly as he sidled his way over to take a look at the papers the chief was working on without her noticing. He glanced down quickly then resumed his place next to Gus with a smile on his face that told Gus he knew everything he needed to.

"Be that as it may, I don't want many people knowing about this case and I'm sure Mr. Guster didn't appreciate the wake up call," the Chief sighed.

"I didn't," Gus snapped at Shawn.

"Yes…" Shawn said slowly then put his hand up to his head. "I see…" he began. "An old woman…missing her…metal…treasure…"

"The widower Mrs. Branston has been robbed," Vick said with a sigh. "You already know that, and so do we."

"Yes, but it would appear something else was missing from her house…" Shawn said with a slight grin on his lips. "Perhaps…an urn?" he asked. "With…ashes?"

Vick looked up, surprised. "How…nevermind," she said. "That's still not why you're here," she told him.

"Then why are we here?" Shawn asked.

"You mean you can't tell us, psychic?" Lassiter asked with a smirk on his face.

"It doesn't work that way," Shawn said elegantly. "And…you know Lassie I could have sworn we've had this conversation before because I am getting déjà vu like crazy over here, look I even have goosebumps," Shawn said holding his arm up for proof.

"Put your arm down Shawn," Gus said irritably and pulled his friend's arm down. "Chief, what happened?"

Vick silently praised the fact that Gus was there so they could move on with their lives. "Yes well, a note was left at the crime scene," she said and handed it to Shawn. "The only thing we see is 'Shawn Spencer' the rest is gibberish to us."

Shawn glanced down at the note and saw a huge block of text and his name placed neatly at the top as if it were a letter to him. Only it didn't say anything he could read.

"Can you…divine anything?" Chief Vick asked using the word carefully.

Shawn looked at it again and saw that parts of it were popping out to him. In fact it looked like a code something… familiar but not too familiar. Suddenly his mind kicked into high gear as he ran through all the different codes his father made him memorize when he was little. It wasn't just one code, it was like…five all mashed together in one super code.

"Mr. Spencer?" Vick asked.

Shawn actually stroked his chin as he looked at the paper. "Um, can I have a couple of minutes? And by minutes I mean like an hour. And a paper and pen would be awesome," he said. "The spirits are feeling…uh…slow today and I would like to write down their message so I don't forget."

Chief Vick raised an eyebrow but nodded.

* * *

Gus sat by Shawn and watched his friend scribble furiously on the paper that was provided. "Dude, is it really that hard?" he asked, impressed with his friend and the note writer.

"Yeah, this is like an alphabet code on steroids," Shawn muttered as he ran his fingers through his hair. He erased something furiously and wrote something in its place.

After another half an hour Shawn looked at his handiwork. He blinked and then paled at the message. "Dude…" he said softly.

Gus leaned over his shoulder. "Dear Shawn Spencer. I have seen you on the news recently and I must say you astonish me. The mere fact that you can decipher this message shown a level of intellect and perception I previously thought only I possessed. Therefore I propose a contest. Of course the first will be easy so we can feel each other out. I have hidden the widower's husband's ashes in a city locker by the bus station. The combination is 2-35-65. That's it, this note was the real test. I promise there are no strings attached. The necklace, in case anyone is wondering was actually taken by her maid. You might wish to look into that. Best of luck, and I look forward to battling you again. Of course things will be much different next time. Well wishes. Your Friend in the Shadows," Gus read out loud.

Gus and Shawn looked at each other. "That's messed up," Gus said quietly. "Intellect?" he asked after a few more minutes. "Psh…yeah right…"

Shawn looked at the floor for a little longer and Gus looked at him. "What are we gonna tell the chief?" he asked.

"Make something up, get her the ashes back," Shawn said simply.

"What if it's a booby trap?" Gus asked.

"Nah, he said he wasn't," Shawn replied. "This is the kind of person who gets kicks from escalating things. Never start off with a bang if you want it to last."

"But…" Gus said.

"We can still warn her," Shawn replied. "But…wow…"

"Shawn, he's serious, what are we going to do?" Gus asked.

"I don't know yet," Shawn admitted. "But dude…you know what this means?"

"You have a crazy person after you?" Gus asked.

"No…" Shawn said and then grinned wildly. "I have an arch nemesis!"

* * *

Another chapter! Ha, and in record time too! Amazing what procrastination can do for you huh? In my need to not do chemistry ya'll get a new chapter. W00t! Heh, hope you enjoyed Shawn's questionable taste in music in this chapter. Hugs and kisses to my reviewers!


End file.
